This is the last novel in the Anarchy series. The Warlord has had a long and eventful life but he is growing old. Fate and King Henry determine that he will not go quietly watching the sun set from his castle. He is sent to cement the marriage between the King’s half sister and a prince of the Welsh. It is while he is there that he uncovers a plot which threatens not only his life but the very crown which Henry wears on his head. With his grandson, Samuel, at his side the Warlord fights one last war to save the land he loves, England.
The was intended to be the last in the series. I thoroughly enjoyed writing it but he was getting old. For those who like the characters Sir Thomas, his great grandson is the hero of the Border Knight series of books.
Excerpt
Thomas brought me my horse and I mounted. I smiled and waved at Samuel. He did not look worried. He had fought alongside me since he had been little more than a page. He had more experience than the Prince or his lieutenants. As the sun came up behind us I saw that the two brothers had arrayed themselves behind four lines of men on foot. On one flank, their right, were their horsemen while the Irish were on their left. When our knights charged much responsibility would lie with the men at arms and archers who would have to endure wild attacks. I nodded to the Prince’s standard bearer and he sounded the horn three times. The men at arms moved forward. When they were two hundred paces from the Welsh the Welsh archers began to send their arrows towards our advancing men. My men at arms were ready and they held their shields above them. Some, not the ones from the valley, showed their inexperience by having the shield too close to their heads. One died when the arrow came through his shield and into his head. When the men at arms were one hundred paces from the Welsh they stopped, ostensibly to dress their lines. The Welsh sent every arrow they had towards my men at arms and then Ralph launched his own arrow storm. It was not aimed at the mailed men at arms but the archers who had no protection. Every arrow found a victim and then Guiscard led my men at arms forward. We had lost men but dressing the lines had filled the gaps. There was a clash of wood and steel when they came together. Now that the Welsh archer threat had been minimized our archers sent their arrows into the men at arms. They did not kill as many as we would have liked but when some of the horsemen had their mounts struck then the Welsh reacted.
Their horn sounded twice. The whole of their line attacked. Our men were ready and they fled to the sides of the valley. On each side three hundred men were standing behind ditches and stakes. The sudden, apparent rout took the Welsh by surprise. The men on foot were slow to react. The horsemen and the Irish reached the men at arms before they had formed lines and men began to die as our own archers’ arrows took their toll.
“Now Sir Harold!”
The horn was sounded and our knights, squires and horsemen galloped down the valley. They were not charging formed ranks. The Welsh were rushing to get at the Warlord. By the time they realised their predicament and tried to form ranks it was too late. I saw Sir James, Sir Harold, Sir Richard and Sir Samuel strike with the spears so quickly that their arms were almost a blur. Many of the men they struck had their backs to the horsemen. Others were trampled to death. A Welsh horn sounded. The knights tried to disengage but the Irish had their blood up and they fought on.
It was hard to sit and just watch the battle but my fighting days were done. What was worrying me was the success the Welsh knights were enjoying. Already some of the men at arms who fought for Prince Dafydd were being slaughtered by knights with lances. I was about to ask for the horn to sound when I saw Sir Harold look up. He shouted orders although I could not hear them. Sir Hugh led half of the knights towards the two Welsh Princes on the hill while Sir Harold wheeled the rest around. Sir Harold had first been my squire when his only skill was with a bow and arrow. Now he was a master horseman. He raised his spear and steadied his line. They calmed their horses and then he lowered his spear and they charged up the hill towards the Welsh horsemen.
Even Prince Dafydd ab Owain Gwynedd was impressed, “Your knights have superb control, Earl Marshal.”
“It is years of training and Sir Harold has been fighting at my side for almost fifty years. My grandson has fought in two wars. They know their business.”
Sir Harold led them to plough into the rear of the Welsh horsemen. Riders were knocked from saddles and the men at arms and archers took heart. They rallied. Suddenly the fyrd spilled through the stakes and the ditches. They were like a tidal wave. They were ill armed but they saw lords who could be beaten and they all wanted to be part of that.
I turned to the Prince’s standard bearer. He had the horn, “Sound the general attack! Let us end this! Come Thomas, we have been spectators long enough.” I drew my sword and spurred White Star towards Sir Hugh and the knights who were battling their way through the Welsh protecting their princes. Guiscard and his men at arms had massacred the Irishmen and they made a huge wedge to drive down from our right.
Thomas and I almost caught up with Sir Hugh and his men. The Welsh defenders were dying to protect their princes. Thomas was a little eager and when the Welshman who had been feigning death suddenly rose and swung his axe, my grandson’s squire almost met an early death. When I was younger men said I had the quickest hands they had ever seen. They might have slowed a little but I was still more than quick enough to swing a back-hand blow into the back of the Welsh neck. Thomas looked around in shock, “Thank you Earl Marshal! I owe you a life!”
“You owe me nothing! Just be more alert.”
